


One of Those Mornings

by Prince_Hamlet



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Alternate Universe - They've Got Some Kind of Established Thing, Domestic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-04 14:48:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prince_Hamlet/pseuds/Prince_Hamlet
Summary: Juno woke up from a nightmare to an empty apartment and knew it was gonna be one of those mornings.Somehow his attempt at pancake-based self care only makes it worse.





	One of Those Mornings

**Author's Note:**

> Alt title: Even My Domestic Fluff Has Angst

You ever have those days where it feels like the past just won’t leave you the fuck alone? I was having one of those days. It started with waking up from a nightmare about being tortured in a Martian tomb. Then, I realized I was alone. I wasn’t alone when I went to sleep, which meant that Nureyev got up early to leave on his next “business trip”. So it was just me, and my sweaty, tangled sheets, and my empty apartment.

Fantastic.

Normally I would make a cup of shitty coffee, skip breakfast, and go right to the office, but every time Nureyev came home, he brought exotic foods, and cooked, and took me out to dinner. And goddammit it felt good to have someone taking care me for the first time in a long time. It almost made me want to take care of me. 

So, I did something I hadn’t done in a long, long time.

I got out the ingredients to make pancakes. I didn’t have a recipe— didn’t need one. I’d made it so many times when I was younger that I knew it by heart and I could make them without even really thinking about it. It was a little harder with no depth perception, but it was mostly muscle memory.

Which is why I didn’t notice until the batter was done and the stove was hot that I’d prepared enough for two. I squeezed my one eye shut and leaned over the counter, gripping the edge tight. 

Some things you never quite get used to. Nightmares, lost vision, living alone. You think you’re fine, and you’ve got it handled, and then you do something stupid like try to make pancakes for your long-dead brother and everything hits you all at once.

When Nureyev put his hands on my hips and tried to kiss me on my right cheek, I nearly jumped out of my skin. On instinct, I whipped around and tried to elbow him directly in the face. If my depth perception was better or his reflexes were worse, I would’ve succeeded.

“N-Nureyev? Goddammit don’t sneak up on me like that,” I sputtered.

“I’m…sorry Juno. Is everything alright?” He looked so goddamn concerned, like I hadn’t just tried to knock him out. Was it because my hands were shaking? I gripped the counter behind me.

“Don’t—” I sighed, ran my hand through my hair. “Don’t apologize. You just came up on my blind side.” 

He didn’t look convinced. 

“It’s fine.”

I didn’t sound very convincing.

I turned back to the stove and busied myself with trying to pour approximately circular pancakes into the pan. “I thought you left already.”

“No, I’m not set to leave until this afternoon. I was just out for a walk. I left a note on the coffee table.” Oh. The coffee table was on the right of the bedroom, and I went right to the kitchen. When I didn’t comment, he started getting down mugs and making coffee. I had my head tilted just enough so that I could watch the pancakes and keep sight of Nureyev. It almost felt like a normal morning routine. He cleared his throat, made an effort to clink cups and step loudly. “So, since when do you make pancakes, hm?” he enquired. “Are you sure you didn’t know I was staying? It looks like you made enough for two.”

It was an innocent question. There was no way that he knew. But Nureyev always had a way of getting straight to the heart of things.

“I… used to make them all the time for Ben and me. Ma wasn’t really a morning person. I haven’t made them in years, but I know the recipe from memory… which is also why there’s enough for two.” Out of the corner of my eye I saw him set down the mugs.

“Juno. You know you can talk to me about anything.” All of a sudden there was a lump in my throat, and it took a lot more concentration to keep the pancakes from burning. Nureyev moved to my left and put a hand on my arm. “Really. I want to be there for you.”

Who was I to refuse him? This man that broke his way into my life? That trusted me, even when I didn’t trust him? That brought me gifts, and told me stories, and held me when I woke up screaming?

This man that I loved?

I melted into him, and he put his arm around my waist and held me close as I finished making the pancakes and stacking them on a plate. They were uneven, and a little burnt, but they smelled like home. It almost felt like a normal morning routine.

I told him about it over breakfast. Talking about my feelings was usually like pulling teeth, but with him…

It was just a little easier.

He did the dishes, and regaled me with stories of his latest grand adventure, and postponed his trip for another few days.

He said he’d rather stay home.

**Author's Note:**

> come and see this and other not-yet-crossposted fics on my tumblr, prince-hamlet.tumblr.com  
> leave a comment if i made u sad


End file.
